We live in a world obsessed with records and being the best—the Guinness Book spirit. Most records happen because someone set out to break them. But one story is different: James Harrison of Australia, “the man with the golden arm,” who quietly gave blood and plasma every few weeks from age 18 to 81. He never chased a title; he just kept helping—and his rare antibodies ended up saving millions of babies. He didn’t try to win; he tried to give, and the giving multiplied.
That’s hard to remember in church life too. When we served in rural Montana, several tiny congregations—same small town, same gospel—found themselves competing: who got the new family first, whose VBS drew more kids. Yes, denominational distinctives can matter. But in that place, folks had more in common than not—and competition was wearing everyone down.
In today’s text the disciples are doing a similar thing. They see someone helping in Jesus’ name—but not in their group—and try to shut it down. Jesus says, Don’t stop them. If the work sets people free, it’s kingdom work. “Whoever isn’t against us is for us.” Gatekeeping isn’t the point; freedom is.
There’s an Old Testament echo: Numbers 11. Moses is burned out; God shares the Spirit with seventy elders. When Eldad and Medad start prophesying inside the camp, Joshua wants them silenced. Moses answers, essentially, I wish all the Lord’s people were prophets. Don’t hoard the work—share it.
Back to James Harrison: he stayed anonymous for years, gave without fanfare, and when recognized later, said he hoped someone would break his record. Two striking details from his story: his lifesaving antibody likely emerged from a medical mistake when he was 14, and the more he gave, the more his body produced. Grace begets grace.
This shifts how we see one another. At home, Naima tries the classic “ask Mom / ask Dad” move. Our line is: We’re on the same team; we’ll have the same answer. Imagine that as a church reflex—in budget talks, program dreams, and daily decisions: same team. In Glendive, two congregations finally lived that out—uniting as a federated church. It meant loss and hard choices (even which hymnals to keep!), but joining forces kept ministry alive. Team over turf.
The Table of the World is not ours to police; it’s Christ’s to share. No quiz. No gate. More places set.
